(I do sometimes feel like nothing I write is meant to be "short, sweet and to the point. I am aware that this is a style all its own, but that it will not be to everyone's tastes.)
I started my day off before 6 am, waking in the dark to the faint sounds of roommates heading out for their very early call. I was warm and safe and didn't hurt much, and my younger dog was snuggled in against the back of my leg between my knee and my hip. Let me tell you about my dogs, as they are a key ingredient in my current state of mind.
Woodgie came to me in July of 2013. I met him when he was two weeks old and fell hard in love. The lovely lady who whelped him, along with 8 littermates of his unintentional litter (and another 8 purebred Rhodesian Ridgebacks on the same day) had hoped I would take to one of the purebred puppies as she was always on the lookout for custodial show homes for her very lovely dogs, so she was ladling my arms full of this puppy and that puppy. "This is Jill, she's a love muffin, and here's Remy, he's a flirt..."
I commented on one puppy's somewhat askew nose, and something tweaked for her. "Oh, you like faces! You need to meet the Woodge." And this unbelievably adorable flufflump was put into my hands. He fit neatly, this tiny, impossibly soft weight, and she was right. I like faces. This guy was sweet and mellow eyed and had a bent down, Winston Churchill nose, just like my first born son had had for his first few months. His eyes were a glazy grey, and he couldn't see very far, but when I held him up and met his gaze, he chose me in that moment. Going, going, GONE.
She still tells this story: of how I had protested, "I don't even know if I can have a dog... I can't afford a dog... I am a cripple, I can't train him or take a rambunctious puppy for walks..." She had an answer for all of it, I think because she saw how hard we had fallen for each other.
"He's got a slipped hock, Bri, he'll never be that rough and tumble, he may not be able to run and jump and be a normal puppy like that: two cripples together isn't a bad mix." This is a lady who is very careful about placements for her pups, and never wrong about real dog people.
"Okay, let me run the numbers."
When I came back for a visit two weeks later, I picked him out of the pack of 17 puppies immediately. I had already picked him up when I checked with her: "This is Woodge, right?"
"Yes, Bri, that's your dog." She wasn't wrong. The cutest thing ever.
I named him on that visit, Winston because of his nose. When the puppy lady heard the name a weird look came over her face and she teared up. Little had I known, there was a dog she had lost a year or two earlier called Winston, who had suffered some brain injury and who she had been hurting about. I saw a picture of that dog just a few months ago and the Woodge is a dead ringer, aside from not being a purebred. Things like that make me aware that reincarnation could be a thing.
So he came home with me in July, and since then his job has been to make me smile or laugh every day.
He is very good at his job.
I started my day off before 6 am, waking in the dark to the faint sounds of roommates heading out for their very early call. I was warm and safe and didn't hurt much, and my younger dog was snuggled in against the back of my leg between my knee and my hip. Let me tell you about my dogs, as they are a key ingredient in my current state of mind.
Woodgie came to me in July of 2013. I met him when he was two weeks old and fell hard in love. The lovely lady who whelped him, along with 8 littermates of his unintentional litter (and another 8 purebred Rhodesian Ridgebacks on the same day) had hoped I would take to one of the purebred puppies as she was always on the lookout for custodial show homes for her very lovely dogs, so she was ladling my arms full of this puppy and that puppy. "This is Jill, she's a love muffin, and here's Remy, he's a flirt..."I commented on one puppy's somewhat askew nose, and something tweaked for her. "Oh, you like faces! You need to meet the Woodge." And this unbelievably adorable flufflump was put into my hands. He fit neatly, this tiny, impossibly soft weight, and she was right. I like faces. This guy was sweet and mellow eyed and had a bent down, Winston Churchill nose, just like my first born son had had for his first few months. His eyes were a glazy grey, and he couldn't see very far, but when I held him up and met his gaze, he chose me in that moment. Going, going, GONE.
"He's got a slipped hock, Bri, he'll never be that rough and tumble, he may not be able to run and jump and be a normal puppy like that: two cripples together isn't a bad mix." This is a lady who is very careful about placements for her pups, and never wrong about real dog people.
"Okay, let me run the numbers."
"Yes, Bri, that's your dog." She wasn't wrong. The cutest thing ever.
I named him on that visit, Winston because of his nose. When the puppy lady heard the name a weird look came over her face and she teared up. Little had I known, there was a dog she had lost a year or two earlier called Winston, who had suffered some brain injury and who she had been hurting about. I saw a picture of that dog just a few months ago and the Woodge is a dead ringer, aside from not being a purebred. Things like that make me aware that reincarnation could be a thing.
So he came home with me in July, and since then his job has been to make me smile or laugh every day.He is very good at his job.
I will cheerfully accept part of the responsibility for Woodge coming in to your life. He totally and completely belongs there!
ReplyDeleteThe face is adorable, but his eyes are incredible. Soft, intense, unnervingly person like eyes. You guys definitely belong together.
ReplyDelete